Whether 'Tis Nobler
by scarletdestiny
Summary: Spoiler Warning: DO NOT READ unless you have seen IW. Sort of AU from the movie - one major change from the film that plays an important role in the overall story arc. Summary: Balance can only be rent asunder by one thing: chaos. [Can be viewed as a direct sequel to "Legacy of the Trickster."]
1. Chapter 1

**Well look at that, I wrote another IW fic already. Ah well, knew it would happen.**

 **This fic can be seen as an extension of "Legacy of the Trickster."**

 **Spoiler Warning: My guess is that if you clicked on this link then you have already seen IW. If that is not the case, then I strongly suggest going to view the movie first before beginning to read this fic.**

 **This should go without saying, but I own no part of Marvel.**

 **Summary:** Balance can only be rent asunder by one thing: chaos.  
***

Sharp pain ignited his every nerve.

A low buzzing drilled through his ears, drumming harsly on his overtaxed mind. His eyes felt far too heavy to crack open, so he continued to lie on whatever surface was beneath him. In his dissociated state, he was unable to tell whether the surface was soft or hard, dry or wet, earth or space.

Even the fleeting thought of floating aimlessly in space did not register enough in his mind to cause concern. If he was in space, then he was in space. Nothing could change his situation.

Still, a soft voice - a woman's graceful tenor - continued to whisper gentle commands across the desolate battlefield that was his consciousness.

 _You must awaken now._

 _He needs you._

 _He cannot fight this threat alone._

 _Wake up, dear heart._

How much easier it was to simply exist! To not heed the commanding voice but rather to allow pain to break over him in pounding waves. To ignore whatever responsibilities he may have had in a past life.

What the voice wanted was action. And action was out of the question.

Darkness hovered at the fringes of his mind, slowly creeping forward and dragging him back down into a blissful state of being in which he could only barely be considered "alive." Except that every time the darkness crept too close, a soft golden glow washed over him, stubbornly keeping the darkness at bay.

There was nothing he could do to stop either force as the chill blackness of death and the persistent warmth of life battled to lay claim over his soul. As a largely disinterested viewer, all he could do was wait to see which force would win in the end.

Death tried lulling him into a false sense of security by saying, "You have an infinite supply of time." Death repeated this mantra over and over, to his mild annoyance.

Life continued to insist, "They have need of you still. Your time has not yet come. You must get up and continue the fight." Life's passionnant pleading for him to continue drawing breath had hardly any more effect on his decision to remain neutral and allow Fate to work itself out than did Death's mantra.

Either he would soon forever succumb to the wishes of Death, or he would regain his strength and carry on his life until Death eventually caught up with him.

 _Will this be your legacy?_ The woman's voice questioned. He supposed the woman must have held a rather firm stake in this battle between Life and Death if Life was allowing her to speak for it.

 _Will you abandon him now when he needs you most?_

The question nagged at him, threatening to dredge up memories to support itself. Memories sounded painful, and he was already suffering so much agony.

"Just make up your mind and be done with it!" He wanted to scream now, to insist that none of this back-and-forth pulling at his soul was fair.

Fair.

Why did the concept of the universe being unfair ring so achingly true and familiar?

His physical pain was steadily becoming more pronounced. Instead of sharp pains piercing his every inch of self, he was slowly beginning to pinpoint certain places on his body that flared in anger due to some sort of mistreatment.

What had happened?

Memories pounded against his mental blocks, held back now only by the darkness of Death that refused to flee. The answer seemed important but he could not reach it.

Where was he?

As the pain grew more intense, the feeling of laying on something cold and hard, the sensation of a cold wind whipping across his body grew more noticable.

Who was he?

Of all the answers, he felt he should intrinsically know that one. Yet the question itself seemed to be wrapped in layers upon layers of betrayal and self-doubt and lies. The question of who he was demanded deep and soul-searching answers that he certainly could not provide at this time.

His senses were returning in full force now. Life was winning. Somehow.

An annoyed groan escaped his lips as the realization that Fate had decided he was not yet fit for death fully struck him. Apparently there was still something that needed his attention. Something that needed his help.

Or rather, _someone_. If only he could recall who that someone was!

 _You cannot rest here for long, dear one._

Death was giving into defeat, sulking off further and further from the edges of his consciousness.

"Why am I not permitted to rest?" He asked the woman, not expecting a response.

The war is not yet finished. She responded. The golden glow of Life grew stronger, seemingly satisfied that he was communicating. Your knowledge and your abilities are necessary if the universe has any chance of surviving this catastrophe.

For reasons he could not fully understand, the thought of a catastrophe did not cause him much concern. Perhaps he had lived through such things before.

The woman's tone turned dire, _This place is collapsing around you._

 _Wake up._

Waking felt impossible. Acknowledging that he was not the only being in the universe was an exhausting thought. What if he woke and discovered that other sentient beings were far less intelligent than himself?

...Was he intelligent? The word sounded right, fit like one small piece of a puzzle. Though the longer he dwelled on the word, the more he decided that he much preferred "clever" or "cunning" over "intelligent."

Perhaps the word itself was unimportant in the grand scheme of things, as the woman's slightly frustrated sigh echoing through his mind seemed to convey, but he felt strongly that deciding which words best fit his character would help him to regain a sense of himself. Maybe then he would understand who he was.

Something beneath him shifted violently and he suddenly recalled the voice's warning that wherever he was could not hold up for much longer.

And yet something he chose to label "fear" kept him from opening his eyes. Some small part of him, some intuition, warned that the moment he opened his eyes, everything would come pouring back. His memories, his sense of self, his responsibilities, everything.

Somehow he knew that once all of those key aspects of himself were regained, he would be set on a path of destruction and violence. War and catastrophe would be unavoidable. Was this mysterious person whom the voice kept referring to worth enough to risk more of his own suffering?

Yes.

The answer rung clearly through his mind, provided by his own consciousness. Though he could not remember the person for himself, though he remembered nothing about his life, an invisible connection amplified by time and a multitude of indescribable emotions insisted that "yes," this person was worth all impending agony.

Warily, he embraced the warmth Life offered and opened his eyes.

Immediately, he recalled precisely who he was. All of the terrible deeds he had committed, all of the times he had fallen and failed, all of the promises he had sworn to uphold only to later break, these parts of himself and more swept across his mind.

He was called Loki, and the weight of his name and all the titles it implied was a burden he would carry forever.

Recent events rushed back to the forefront of his memory, all clamoring for his attention. Had his plan succeeded? Were the remaining Asgardians still safe? Had Thanos already won?

Through the haze of memories - handing over the space stone in exchange for Thor's life, costing Heimdall his life, definitely standing before the Mad Titan - only one question truly mattered.

Where was Thor?


	2. Chapter 2

**Apologies for the delay in updating; I wanted to see IW again before I solidified where I wanted to take this fic.  
*****

Loki's beaten and bruised body adamantly protested the simple act of sitting up. Only centuries of practice pushing through times of intense physical pain, combined with the fact of his physiology, kept him from immediately falling back into unconsciousness as another wave of agony struck him.

Through sheer willpower, he forced down the pain and tucked the majority of it away into a corner of his mind. He could deal with the repercussions of ignoring possibly fatal injuries later. Until he reached a more stable environment and tracked down Thor, everything else would simply have to wait.

 _Not that it will be hard to find a more stable location from which to begin my search,_ he thought, warily glancing around at his murky surroundings.

The dense grey mist reminded him of a rather poor-tasting potion that he had brewed eons ago when he was only beginning to study the specific fields of magical study available to him. The ground upon which he was sitting, if it could even rightly be called 'ground,' was slowly crumbling under his weight. The once earth-like foundation now slipped through his fingers in much the manner of dust and less of the solid dirt of earth.

Here and there, splotches of pitch blackness cut through the moorish haze. A smattering of dim blue and white pinpricks of light caught his eye, calling to him from beyond the shroud of mist in which he found himself.

Instead of bringing comfort, the dots of light sent a spark of fear through his nervous system. Scrambling to his feet in a much less graceful manner than he was accustomed to, Loki shifted his weight onto a different portion of dissipating surface.

 _Norns! What was I thinking?_ Frantically, his eyes combed his immediate surroundings, searching desperately for the quickest route through which to escape.

 _The paths of Yggdrasil were never intended for one to stay in for any extended period of time! Especially not one so desolate and shattered as this._

He could not recall transporting himself here, but he supposed some small corner of his mind - fueled by his seidr and an overactive survival instinct - had recognized the importance of not being on the spacecraft when it burst apart, and so had transported him to a relatively safe location. For having been mostly dead at the time, he supposed arriving at a decaying path in one of Yggdrasil's branches was rather impressive. After all, he could have just as easily found himself helplessly floating in deep space, far from any known treadable paths.

 _Perhaps dwell on the technicalities of how you arrived here later. The path itself is collapsing. It is imperative to move - now!_

Deftly ignoring the pain which would have long since killed a mortal man and ought to have crippled even an Asgardian for a time, he moved as quickly as he dared towards one of the ever-widening gaps of blackness. To walk through where the stars shone would be suicide - in his current state, he doubted he would last long in empty space.

Yet, even under the best physical conditions, it was generally unwise to travel these ancient paths at all. Still, he would have to take his chances and risk stumbling onto another collapsing pathway if he had any hope of making it out alive, much less actually finding Thor in any reasonable amount of time.

Time. That was another question. How much time had passed since Thanos attacked?

At the most, it couldn't have been more than a few days considering how much he still ached. That thought was a relief, at least. Perhaps there was still a chance that Thor hadn't managed to get himself killed in the span of a few days. A low chance, true, but a chance nonetheless.

And Loki held fiercely to the slight chance that Thor might yet live. Any other reality was out of the question - was entirely too devastating to think on.

After everything they had been through, surely Thor would not fall prey to death now that they two were all that remained of Asgard's leadership. He _could not_ have died moments after Loki traded the entire universe's safety for him. Certainly not.

The cloud-like foundation shifted beneath his feet, pulling him back to his own current problems. As the ground evaporated, the entire pathway began to turn in on itself, pulling everything into its inescapable center. _In much the same manner as a collapsing star._ Yet stars' collapses were predictable, easy to calculate. Pathways could vanish seconds after they began splintering apart.

Against his better judgment which loudly argued that stepping through a random tear in space was a truly _terrible_ idea, Loki forced his legs to wade through the mist which was quickly gaining a greater gravitational pull, called upon as much seidr as he dared, and stumbled through the closest opened pathway.  
***

He was falling.

Desolate planets passed by him in a rush as he careened down through the ancient opening between worlds. It seemed his luck was running out. Instead of another direct pathway, he had fallen into a vertical tunnel.

It was the Void all over again.

Instinct had him squeezing his eyes shut. After all, he couldn't tell that he was falling if he couldn't see the stars and planets blurrily passing him by.

Stubbornly, he tried pushing the comparison to the Void out of his mind. Reminding himself of the fall that had seemed to last centuries would only lead to numb, paralyzing fear overriding his every thought.

Nevertheless, his mind drifted in that direction. To the incalculable span of time during which he had been forced to relive his life - every action, every mistake, every fault - over and over again because there was simply nothing else to do.

He hadn't been angry when he began his fateful descent, merely resigned that he would never measure up - that he would remain solidified in Thor's shadow the rest of his days if he stayed on Asgard.

The people would look to him in fear, not simple mistrust or disinterest. They would scorn him, shun him from their company. He would be, for all intents and purposes, cast out, deserted by yet another people.

Left to his own devices. Left in isolation.

Left to suffer.

Left to die.

It had been easier, so much easier, to make that choice for himself. To simply let go.

Their stares and their words could not hurt him if he was not alive.

For once in his life, he had taken control. He had refused to allow himself to live in anyone's shadow - to be inferior than those around him.

And he fallen hard. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.

Every part of himself in which he had once taken pride now felt broken, like pieces that refused to fit together. And yet he tried to force them to meld once more, desperately holding onto the flimsy shreds of his identity as he fell.

 _I am Loki_ , his brain would supply. But he could never finish the mantra. He held no titles, no true identity. Was his name even Loki?

Who was he? No one important.

What was he? A monster. A castout. A prize taken for a useless purpose.

He had lost all hope long before Thanos found him drifting through the Void.

 _Thanos._ The name sparked a memory - there was something he was forgetting.

Pulling himself from the poisonous remembrance of events long since past, Loki cracked his tired eyes open, forcing himself to acknowledge the differences between this fall and his last.

Whereas the fall from the bridge had lasted ages in a slow, steady form, this felt more chaotic. He was tumbling through the shattered remains of a pathway, heading towards a destination that he could not guess at speeds that rivaled travel through the rainbow hues of the Bifrost.

This time he knew that the fall had to end at some point. He would not be eternally floating throughout space, listless and helpless.

This time he had a purpose. He would find Thor and make Thanos pay.

For Asgard.

For his own suffering.

For Thor.

Thanos would learn never to underestimate the Trickster, the God of Lies and of Mischief.

Chaos would upend all of the Mad Titan's plans, destroying the scales of balance as utterly as Asgard had been wiped from the cosmos.  
***

Due to the protective nature of the pathways, Loki hardly felt his hasty entrance into Midgard's atmosphere. Unfortunately, the pathway did not extend all the way to the planet's surface. A mere twenty feet from the ground, the pathway deposited him from its depths.

He landed on the grass with an audible _thud_. For a moment, he was far too relieved to feel the cool, solid ground beneath his sorely abused body to worry about any new injuries he might now possess.

A full-bodied groan passed through his lips as he lifted himself up on his elbows. He blinked slowly, the intense brightness of the sun temporarily disorienting him after his time spent in space. Cool puffs of wind ruffled his hair gently, as if the universe was attempting to apologize for causing him more pain with a simple, welcome breeze.

His arms wobbled below him, barely holding up his weight. Sighing in resignation, he carefully rolled over onto his back. Closing his eyes against the assault of the sun high above, he breathed in the fresh air deeply. Wherever he had landed on Midgard, it smelled strongly of oak and newly-bloomed flowers, all carrying delightful scents of their own.

It was pleasant, peaceful even.

At least, it would have been if not for the agony pulsing through his every nerve. Each muscle in his body felt as though it had been pulled to its limit, then released suddenly and snapped back into place. His neck was stiff and sore, and he could feel the bruises gathered across his collarbone. Now that he gave himself a moment to consider it, every breath was pained, forced out through trembling lips from lungs that were struggling to constrict.

He would have died long ago if his seidr hadn't jumped into action and began repairing his wounds even as Thanos crushed the life from his body.

 _Thanos really should have known better,_ he thought. After all, sorcerers were notoriously difficult to kill.

A shadow blocked the sun from pounding on his closed eyelids.

In no mood for confrontation and in no shape to fight, he slowly cracked open his eyes. Any other day, he would have been concerned that he had not sensed anyone approaching. But with his magic mostly spent, his mind disordered, and his strength quickly seeping from his battered body, he really was not all that surprised.

A human child stood over him, her large brown eyes curiously searching him. Unconcerned with the bloody and bruised state of his body, she crouched down by his right side, strands of light brown hair coming loose from her braids as the wind gently buffeted her slight form.

Years of paranoia had Loki debating what sort of threat this young child could bring. Yet he quickly shoved the thought away - surely even in his exhausted state, he could defend himself from a small human if the need arose.

"Are you dead?" Her voice was soft and airy, as if she were a spirit unburdened with the harsh realities of life.

"Not yet," he responded hoarsely, wondering why he bothered answering at all. He was, after all, very clearly still alive.

The girl continued to examine him: there was a quickness to her gaze that suggested she had been around injured people before and knew some of the signs to look for. "Don't move," she ordered in her childish lilt.

If the entire situation hadn't been so comically bizarre, he would have responded sarcastically about how he couldn't move even if wanted to.

Apparently satisfied that Loki would stay still and do as she had commanded, the child stood to her feet. "I'll go get my dad. He'll know how to help." She took two steps away before turning back, a soft smile lighting up her youthful features, "I'm Lila, by the way."

Friendly introduction finished, the girl spun around and took off at a run, quickly disappearing from his line of sight.

It seemed as if he had no choice but to rest and recover a bit of his strength.

 _Thor, if you die before I find you, I swear I will bring you back to life and murder you myself._


End file.
